Ashes
by Hinaku
Summary: Genma and Hayate: a memory. Sometimes, going back is the only way to move forward. Drabble.


Ashes

* * *

The forest was quiet at this time of morning, the skies dark save for the horizon dyed a faint pink from the rising sun. A solitary figure slowly emerged from the depths of the trees. There was a lost quality to his stride, his slumped form stumbling over unearthed roots and scattered stones. His eyes were shadowed, his insomnia leaving dark rings around his eyes. His lips, dry and cracked with dehydration, held a senbon hazardously between them. Held against his chest were his hands, cupped together as though he were holding something precious between them. It looked as though he were in prayer. In a way, he was. 

The first pale rays of dawn were streaming through the overhead patchwork of clouds when he stopped at his destination. Before him was a bridge, built of worn and timeless cobblestones made a warm green by the moss that had long since carpeted them. It had been like that even in his youth.

_Genma! Genma!_

Slowly, he turned, expression distant as he smiled faintly at the phantoms of his past. Two boys, one visibly older than the other, were racing for the bridge. The smaller one fell behind, his hands cupped tightly and held against his chest.

_Ne, Genma! Wait for me!_

The younger boy slowed to a stop, half bending over to cough. Alarmed, the older boy ran back to him.

_Hayate-kun, don't push yourself so hard-_

_I'm okay!_

There was such stubbornness in the little boy's voice.

_We're almost there, right? Let's hurry before I change my mind._

_Aa, hai._

They went on their way, slower now, passing right through his body to reach the bridge. His gaze followed them. Near the middle of the bridge, the younger boy hesitated.

_Are you sure it's okay, Genma?_

_It'll be fine. You can't keep it forever._

_What it something bad happens to it? It's sick like me. It doesn't have anyone to look out for it._

_You look out for yourself and you do just fine._

_But I have you._

_Tch. You don't need me. You should let it go. Even if it dies, so what? At least it got to live and be free, even for a little while._

The smaller boy blinked at his friend at the calloused response.

…_but, Genma, I love it_.

The younger boy sounded tearful. The man watching cringed slightly at the sight, looking as though he wanted to reach out, but his hands remained cupped together.

_You'll get over it. Now c'mere._

The younger boy hesitated, then obediently made his way to the other boy's side. The older boy took the toothpick he had been sucking on out of his mouth and rolled it between his fingers.

_Now, Hayate-kun, what are we?_

…_boys?_

_Idiot. We're shinobi. Or, we will be someday. Death is just… there. It always is, watching over us, waiting for our time to go. There are going to be tougher things to face than this. You're too soft, Hayate. You have to learn to let go. For shinobi like us, it doesn't matter how long you live. It's how you spend the time you have, because you never know when something will be gone._

_Wow… you're really smart, Genma._

_Tch. Didn't you listen to the Sandaime? You gonna let it go now?_

The younger boy nodded.

_Genma…_

The older boy sighed.

_What is it now?_

The younger boy leaned up and planted a light kiss on the other's nose. The older boy gave the younger a scrunched expression, wrinkling his nose. He stuck his toothpick back into his mouth as he went to rub away the tickling sensation the kiss left.

…_what was that for?_

_I hope I don't ever have to let you go._

…_tch. Still too soft._

Still, the older boy smiled.

_The younger boy walked to side of the bridge._

The man watching walked to the side of the bridge.

_He held his cupped hands aloft._

He held his cupped hands aloft.

_Slowly, he began to open them._

Slowly, he began to open them.

_The spray of the river crashing below splashed against their faces, the water glistening in the morning sun._

The spray of the river crashing below joined the tears trailing down his cheeks, the wetness glistening in the morning sun.

_His hands opened_.

His hands opened.

_The bird flew_.

The ashes scattered into the wind.

* * *

owari


End file.
